


I'm Here For Your [Attention]

by livecement



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Age Difference, Gen, Genderqueer Character, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating will change, Sexual Content, Stripper AU, Trans Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-04-27 10:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14423658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livecement/pseuds/livecement
Summary: Through his best friend Konoha - who's sick of him crashing on his couch - Bokuto lands a job at a gay strip club named Sugar Man's. The place welcomes anyone and everyone from the queer community and employs all sorts of people who welcome Bokuto with open arms.Everyone's great. Even his bosses are cool. But there's one guy in particular that Bokuto desperately needs to impress, even if just to prove a point.





	1. The Audition

The sun is high in the sky, beating down on the city. The pavement under Koutarou’s feet sizzles. It’s unusually hot for June and he’s really not happy about it. He can feel sweat soaking through his t-shirt, making it stick to his skin, and he wonders how long it will be before it soaks through his button-down as well. “Sweaty Mess” isn’t exactly the best look for a job interview. But there’s nothing he can do about it now because the place he’s supposed to be interviewing for is just a few metres away.

Fuck.

He stops.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He paces on the sidewalk just outside the doors.

“Fuck.” He takes his phone out of his pocket, finds Konoha’s contact and calls him. When Konoha picks up Koutarou immediately starts with, “I don’t know if I can do this, man.”

“ _Whatya mean? You were practically born for this.”_

“But it’s-”

“ _Do I need to remind you that you’re broke as fuck?”_

“But-”

“ _And that your parents just kicked you out.”_

“I know, but-”

“ _And that you can’t live on my couch forever.”_

Koutarou groans, running a hand down his face. “You make me sound like such a loser!”

“ _Well…”_

“Oh, fuck off. You’d still be living on instant noodles if I weren’t crashing there and actually cooking you real food.”

“ _And you’re a real sweetheart for doing that, but you gotta buck up and start making some cash. Because dude,”_ he pauses, “ _neither of us are ever gonna get laid living like this.”_

Koutarou can’t really argue with that.

His friend seems to know that too. “ _So, get in there. My buddy’s waiting for you, and he’s not the kind of guy you wanna leave waiting.”_

“Fffffwaaaahhh,” he wrinkles his nose and bounces on his toes, “fine- fine! I’ll do it.”

“ _Atta boy. Good luck.”_

“Yeah,” he grumbles as Konoha hangs up.

He shoves his phone into his back pocket, muttering to himself. It takes some deep breaths and a little more bemoaning before he finally accepts his fate. He straightens out his clothes, trying to think not sweaty thoughts.

And then walks through the front doors of the strip club.

 

It’s a bit smaller inside than he expected, but not tiny either. Just a nice, medium sized strip joint. He doesn’t really have much to compare to, admittedly. But it seems like an intimate space, probably good for making tips. It’s not overwhelmingly extravagant, which he’s glad for. There’s various pride flags hung up around the place, and when his eyes land on one with the pan colours, he does a mental fist pump. Inclusivity is good.

He looks around for the owner, anyone, but finds the place empty.

“Uh,” he calls out, “hello?”

Suddenly a door just behind the bar swings open. A plain looking guy walks out carrying a crate of pint glasses. He’s got short brown hair and a soft, round face, and is this really the guy Konoha said he didn’t wanna piss off? Because he doesn’t seem so—

“You’re late,” the guy announces as he sets the crate down on the bar. His face suddenly doesn’t seem so gentle anymore, eyes piercing and mouth stretched into a scary sort of expectant smile.

He laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “Actually, I’m Bokuto Koutarou.”

The guy just blinks at him.  

“Oh, well uh, I got—” he swallows as the guy, Enno- something?, rounds the bar, eyes narrowing— “lost.”

“Had a difficult time spotting the only neon green and hot pink striped building on the block, eh?” he says, approaching Koutarou.

“I’m… colour blind?” The guy stops in front of Koutarou and crosses his, decently toned, arms. When he raises an eyebrow, Koutarou relents. “Agh, I’m sorry! I was just really kinda nervous about this whole thing. I had a bit of internal struggling before making it through the door.”

The man’s face softens again into a knowing smile, crows feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes. He offers a hand, ”Ennoshita Chikara.”

Koutarou shakes his hand and Ennoshita asks, “First time interviewing for a strip club, I presume?”

“First time _in_ a strip club, period,” he admits.

Ennoshita’s eyes narrow again as he drops Koutarou’s hand. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” he assures, and suddenly he feels the need to clarify; “And I have been to other kinds of clubs! Lots of them! And lotsa gay ones too. I wasn’t like, born yesterday or anything like that. I’ve just never—”

Ennoshita laughs, putting up a hand, and Koutarou stops his sputtering. “I believe you. Just wanted to double check that you weren’t a minor.”

“You’re not gonna check my ID?”

“We’ll get to that if I hire you,” he says, clapping Koutarou on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s sit.”

He leads Koutarou to a table sat front and centre of a platform that’s at the end of the short runway that juts out a few metres from the main stage. Koutarou takes his seat across from Ennoshita and sets his clasped hands on the table, trying not to fidget or do anything weird. Meanwhile Ennoshita sits back in his chair easily, lifting a leg and resting it on his knee. He regards Koutarou almost lazily. There’s not a clipboard or pen in sight, which is unusual but also kind of a relief.

“Alright, I already know you’ve never stripped - professionally - before,” he starts, and Koutarou snickers, “ _so_ , we can skip that part. Uh, do you have any dance experience at all? Lessons, self-taught, whatever.”

“Oh!” He perks up at the easy question. “I was in hip hop lessons for a little while when I was a kid! And I was on my high school’s cheerleading squad for like a month in my first year, but my grades sucked so they kicked me out. That was a bummer, but I met cooler people in the drama club anyway. And uh,” he cleared his throat, legs bouncing, “I was in gymnastics most of my life, up until um, up until a couple of years ago.”

By the time he finishes, Ennoshita’s eyes are like saucers. He kinda looks like a deer with his big brown doe-eyes.  

“No shit,” he finally says, chuckling a little. “Well, the dance thing’s not really a requirement, but it definitely helps. And,” he gestures to Koutarou, “you seem to have it in spades, so that’s great.”

Koutarou relaxes a little more. “Awesome!”

“I probably don’t have to ask this after what you just told me, but do you have any reservations about performing in front of large crowds?”

“I’ve been called an attention whore more than a few times, if that tells ya anything.”  

The corners of Ennoshita’s mouth twitch. “How about taking your clothes off in front of strangers?”

“I’m not all that shy about my body.” He leans back, smirking as he gestures to himself. “I mean, look at me.”

“You certainly have the physique for this, yes,” Ennoshita acknowledges, eyes crinkling in a smile that’s a little indulgent. It makes Koutarou feel kinda warm inside, almost like he’s being praised by a parent.

That’s probably kind of weird in this situation, but it is what it is.

“And you’re okay with dancing in costumes that often don’t leave much to the imagination?” Ennoshita continues.

“You’ve seen what gymnasts gotta wear, right?”

Ennoshita throws his head back and laughs, “Alright, fair enough.”

Koutarou’s pretty sure this is going well, but then Ennoshita suddenly straightens in his chair and clears his throat. Koutarou mirrors his posture instinctively.

“Okay,” he says, holding himself just like he did when Koutarou first arrived, “I just have one more question.”

“Sure.”

“Do you have any issues performing or working with transgender men and women, or anyone else who is not cis-gender? Because if you do,” he nods towards the front of the club, “the door is that way.”

His gaze is so severe Koutarou startles a little. “Oh, no way dude,” he matches the serious tone, “That is, like, the opposite of a problem.”

“Okay, well, excellent,” Ennoshita says, clapping his hands together and relaxing back into friendliness, “If you could just hang tight for a sec, I’ll get Suga out here.” He stands up. “He’s the other owner of the club. And then, uh, you can get up on stage and show us what you’ve got.”

“Wait, what?” he squawks, shooting out of his seat. “Right now?”

“Don’t sweat it,” Ennoshita waves him off, “It doesn’t have to be elaborate or anything. We just need to see where you’re at.”

“Kay, cool,” he says through a held breath, “That’s totally cool.”

“If you’re uncomfortable performing in front of two grown men alone, I can get Kiyoko out here as well,” Ennoshita offers, “She’s strictly interested in women.”

He exhales pathetically, “Nah, that’s not it. I just didn’t think to…” he laughs sheepishly, “Prepare for this. Which was probably really dumb considering what I’m interviewing for.”

With a warm laugh, Ennoshita turns and waves him off again. “If what you’ve told me is true,” he calls as he walks toward the bar, “you’ll be fine!”

Right, sure. Totally fine.

Ennoshita disappears through the door by the bar and Koutarou starts to pace.

Okay. It’s okay. He’s going to be fine. He’s a hot, young piece of ass with years of dance experience under his belt. And not to brag, but everything else under his belt ain’t too bad either. The only problem is that he’s never taken his clothes off in a sexy way while also dancing. Actually, he doesn’t think he’s ever taken his clothes off in a sexy way while standing still either. Most of the time they were just ripped off or drunkenly stumbled out of.

He’d been planning on practicing at home in front of a mirror—or Konoha if he could bribe him―if he got the job, but that doesn’t matter anymore because he has to perform _right now._ Oh god, what if he just looks like an idiot? Maybe he should just leave. Save himself the embarrassment.

No, he can’t do that. Konoha would kill him. And then kick him out.

Fuck it. He’ll just have to go for it. Throw in some cool gymnastics shit to distract from his inexperience, it’ll be fine.

Totally fine.

And if all else fails, he can just twerk his way through.

The door by the bar swings open again. Koutarou halts his pacing and whips his head around to look. Ennoshita comes out first, followed by a man who manages to be very pretty, boyishly handsome, but also distinguished and mature looking all at once.

 _Devilish_ , Koutarou decides.

The two men approach him, and Mr. Devilishly Handsome offers his hand.

“Sugawara Koushi, but you can call me Suga.”

His smile is very charming and Koutarou's starting to feel overwhelmed by warm, attractive older men. He takes Suga’s hand and gives it a firm shake, somehow giving his name without stuttering like a flustered teenager.

“Chikara here seems quite taken by you,” Suga tells him.

Ennoshita clicks his tongue. “All I said was he has potential, don’t embellish.”

Suga ignores him and keeps talking. “Attractive and charming, with arms that could lift me over your head, I believe is what he said.”

“That is _not_ —”

Koutarou cuts off Ennoshita’s complaint with a laugh, starting to feel more at ease.

“Y’know I probably could,” he says to Suga with a lopsided grin. “Wanna give it a shot?”

The older man’s eyes sparkle as he chuckles. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Koutarou opens his mouth to reply, but Ennoshita interjects—

“—so about the audition.”

“Right, Chikara has probably told you that I’m a co-owner of the club,” Suga carries on without a hitch, “but I’m also the MC, as well as the supervisor for the entertainers. That’s why I’m here to observe your audition.”

Koutarou nods.

“We’ll put on a song and you can show us your stuff. The routine doesn’t have to last the whole song, but make sure you don’t rush it either. Sound good?”

“Yep,” Koutarou tries not to let his nerves show because he really wants to impress this very good-looking man.

But Suga sees right through him. He rests a hand on Koutarou’s arm and says, “Don’t stress about it! We know you’re new to this. The audition is just to get a feel for your stage presence and to make sure you have rhythm.”

He claps Koutarou’s shoulder and lets his hand drop away, smiling disarmingly. “Just be yourself and have fun with it. I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

With a smile like that, Koutarou can’t not believe him. “You got it! I’ll knock your pants right off.”

“Socks,” Ennoshita tries to correct him.

But Koutarou just grins. “I said what I meant.”

“I hate to disappoint you,” Suga drawls, “but I gave up stripping a few years ago.” He winks at Koutarou in a way that’s disappointingly indulgent and gestures to the stage. “Your pants, however.”

“Right.” Koutarou nods bravely and turns to face the stage. He stares it down like he would the parallel bars during a competition. As of this moment, Koutarou’s nerves are telling him a bar routine might be easier than what he’s about to do.

“Right,” he says again before taking two quick strides to the stage and vaulting himself up with one arm, landing on it in a crouch.

“Y’know, we do have steps,” Ennoshita says behind him.

“Yes, but what he did was more impressive,” Suga counters before Koutarou has a chance to say the same thing except in an obnoxious way.

Forcing a confident smile, Koutarou turns to face them. Suga leaves Ennoshita, who’s once again taken a seat, to walk behind what Koutarou assumes is the DJ booth, set up off to the side of the stage. He opens up a laptop there and flips a few switches. Koutarou watches him as he chews on his lip, scrolling through something on the screen.

Finally, he calls out, “Are you familiar with _Hard_ by Rihanna?”

“I am, I am, I am,” Koutarou replies. He’s started swinging his arms in front of himself, letting his hands clap together each time they meet.

A smile stretches across Suga’s face. “Alright then, you ready?”

Koutarou drops his gaze to the stage in front of him, bouncing on his toes to get psyched up. He’s already started running through choreography in his head. “Born that way, man.”

There’s a chuckle, a click, and then the [music starts](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xcwd_Nz6Zog).

The poppy high-hat and drum rings sharp out of the speakers and Koutarou starts a subtle bounce to the beat. As the song starts to build, he builds his movements with it, letting the groove and Rihanna’s distinct _“awh yeah yeah yeah”_ s guide his body. He rocks and bounces in place until the beat finally drops into the verse and he can really start dancing.

He keeps it pretty simple, putting most of the focus on his hips because that seems like the right thing to do; movements that start from his chest and then flow down to his hips, rolling them and then punctuating the end of each lyric with a pop. He can’t help but throw some fancy footwork into the mix too.

As he dances, he runs his hands along his body, just teasing at taking his clothes off until it finally feels right. He wants to at least have his shirt off before the chorus starts, so he starts unbuttoning it. He winks at Ennoshita, but doesn’t register his reaction because holy fuck are buttons hard. How do they work even? His fingers have apparently forgotten because they’re just stumbling along as he tries to keep his body moving to the rhythm. He’s managed a couple but the chorus is coming and he’s gonna look stupid and—

Fuck it, he grabs the edges of the shirt and rips it open, sending buttons flying all over the stage.

And then he slides it down his shoulders while grinding his hips like that was what he’d planned to do all along.

When he gets it off his arms, he tosses it to the side and starts on his undershirt.

He drags it up his torso, managing to feel a lot sexier this time. He gets it over his head just as the last line of the verse is ending and then throws it away as the chorus rolls in with—

_I-I-I I’m so hard_

He grinds the air while sliding one hand down his chest, his abs, and then grabs his junk through his jeans. Really feeling the music now, he runs his other hand through his hair, biting his lip in a way that he’s been told is really hot.

As the chorus goes on, repeating _so hard, so hard_ over and over, his movements grow raunchier. Until he somehow ends up on his knees.

That’s when a door somewhere to the side of the stage creaks open. Koutarou doesn’t look, but he can see daylight streaming into the club from the corner of his eye. He tries to ignore whoever’s come in as he gets up and continues moving to the second verse.

He swaggers in a kind of circle around the platform to get back into the rhythm and let the song build up again.

(And also to discretely toe off his sneakers because he doesn’t think there’s any other way to deal with that.)

When he gets back to centre, he sees that the person who walked in has joined Suga and Ennoshita, standing just behind the latter with a gym bag slung over his shoulder. The guy is incredibly hot, even though he’s dress like a slob. And he’s watching Koutarou with a bored expression. Which kinda pisses him off because he is definitely working this stage and is pretty hot himself, so where does this guy get off looking bored?

Koutarou needs to show him up.

The second verse is halfway through, so he starts undoing his belt, making direct eye contact with Mr. Bored Face. They guy’s expression doesn’t change in the slightest.Koutarou moves on to his zipper, pulling it down slowly. And then he shimmies his jeans down his hips a little, but doesn’t take them off. Instead he turns and saunters down the short runway. It’s relatively wide, so he thinks it’ll be safe for what he’s about to do.

Probably.

He reaches the back of the main stage and turns, trying to look confident as he quickly pulls of his socks. He’s only ever done this trick successfully once.

Thank god he wore relaxed jeans today.

The verse is nearly over, so Koutarou goes for it:

He takes a short running start and then throws himself in a round-off cartwheel, making his jeans slide down his ass. He uses the momentum to hurl himself into a back hand-spring, feeling them slide down to his knees. From there he flies into a back flip, flinging the jeans right off of his legs.

And then he lands. In only his underwear.

Holy shit, he did it.

Adrenaline burns through his body and he just can’t help but twerk right in bored guy’s face (figuratively). Rihanna backs him up, singing, _“yeah, yeah, yeah, so hard”_.

There’s clapping, and a wolf whistle that he assumes is from Suga.

He turns around and rolls his hips, showcasing his junk with all of the confidence years of gymnastics bestowed upon him.

He catches bored guy leaning down and whispering something to Ennoshita, who nods. Bored guy walks over to the DJ both and turns off the music just as the rap part is beginning, which is good because Koutarou didn’t really know how he was supposed to end this thing. He’s about to say just that, but before he can the guy walks away from the booth without a word and disappears through the door behind the bar.

It’s a little insulting, Koutarou thinks.

But he’s also still pumped that he didn’t mess up his strip flip, so fuck the stupidly hot stranger.

He looks over at Ennoshita and Suga with a grin.

“Well done,” Suga says with a smile. He stands up and Ennoshita follows suit. “We’ll be in touch with you.”

Koutarou’s smile falters. He knows what that means.

But then Ennoshita whacks Suga in the stomach, hard enough to get an _oof_ out of him, and says, “Don’t fuck with him. Honestly, the guy’s half-naked.” He looks up at Koutarou. “You’re hired, kid.”

Koutarou’s breath rushes out of him and he claps his hands together, words stumbling out of his mouth, “Really? Yes! Great! Thank you!”

He jumps off of the stage and grabs Ennoshita’s hand, shaking it profusely. “I’ll be great, I promise.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Ennoshita laughs, “But first I’ll need you to show me some ID.”

“Ah! Right!” Koutarou starts patting himself down for his wallet but then remembers that he’s got no pants on.

“Hang on! Let me get my pants—“

“Oh,” Suga twists around and grabs a pair of pants off of one of the chairs from the table that was behind them, “Here.”

 

Once Koutarou’s decent again—shirt buttons in his pocket to be sewn back on later—they go over what his wage will be, how payment will work (under the table), and then they check to make sure he’s legal. Koutarou comments that he hopes he looks over 18, but Suga just laughs and explains that Ennoshita has reason to be paranoid. He’s promptly shut up by Ennoshita before Koutarou can hear the story.

“Think you’d be able to swing by again later tonight?” Ennoshita asks him once they’ve wrapped everything up. “Just to hang out and get a feel for the place. See how things happen around here.”

“Yeah, for sure man.”

“Great,” Ennoshita smiles, eyes twinkling. “Show starts at ten.”

 

When Koutarou steps out of the club, he’s momentarily blinded by the sun. He shields his eyes and starts his walk back to Konoha’s apartment. And even though he’ll see him in like, half an hour, Koutarou’s too excited to wait and decides to call him.

“ _Hey buddy, how’d it go?”_

“Ask who you’re talkin’ to.”

He snorts, _“Who am I talking to?”_

“Well, my friend, you’re talking to _Sugar Man’s_ newest male entertainer!”

“ _You slut! I knew they’d like you.”_

Koutarou laughs boisterously, drawing a few looks from other pedestrians.

“ _So_ _this means_ _you can get the fuck off my couch soon.”_

Koutarou’s too happy to even squawk at him for that. Instead he grins wide and says, “Don’t lie, you love me.”

“ _Yeah, I do. Now get back here so you can cook some celebratory dinner, I’m starving.”_

“Now who’s the slut?”

“ _I am,”_ Konoha replies without hesitation, _“I’m a big fat slut for your cooking.”_

“Yeah you are,” Koutarou laughs. “Seeya soon.”

_“Later.”_

As he continues his walk it really starts to sink in what he’s just been hired for. His stomach flutters with a weird mixture of anxiety and anticipation. This is definitely something that’s in his element, but there’s still a lot that he doesn’t know about stripping.

Stripping.

He is going to be a stripper.

His parents are going to be so proud.


	2. The Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto experiences a strip club for the very first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many moons have past since the first chapter and I am sorry. I have a poor sense of space and time, and even though there are personal reasons why I struggled to complete this chapter, I didn't actually notice how long it had been. Anyway! Thank you Essie for kicking my ass into gear when I needed it! 
> 
> A reminder that I do link the songs that are danced to in the fic, but you by no means need to actually listen to them. I just wanted the option to be there.
> 
> Anyway, hope everyone enjoys this chapter! I had so much fucking fun writing it once I got in the groove.

Over dinner with Konoha, Koutarou has a dilemma:

“I shouldn’t show up right at ten, right?”

“Why not?”

“Well ‘cause like, that makes me seem too eager.”

“… to be employed?”

“No, I just- I mean. It’s a club scene, y’know? They’re _strippers_. I don’t want to come off as a straight-edge.”

“So what you’re basically saying is strippers are too cool to show up to things on time.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Then just get there at like quarter after or something.”

“But then that makes it seem like I’m trying to show up fashionably late.”

“You are.”

“But I don’t want them to know that!”

“Well then shoot for, I don’t know, around half after I guess? Now chill out, would ya.”

 

Koutarou gets to the club at exactly half after ten.

There’s a fairly long lineup at the door which sucks because now he’s gonna have to cut it and look like an asshole. And even though he’s technically here for work, people are still gonna give him dirty looks and he’s still gonna feel bad about it.

He approaches the bouncer hesitantly. The guy’s tall, leaning against the pink brick with his arms crossed—black t-shirt stretched tight across lean muscle—with a grumpy sort of pout on his face. He looks young to be a bouncer. But then again, Koutarou’s the one who’s going to be taking his clothes off for money.

“Um,” he starts, feeling the eyes of everyone in line on him, some already informing him where the end of it is.

The bouncer’s eyes shift to glare at Koutarou, lips morphing from a pout to a full-on scowl.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

Koutarou understands why he’s a bouncer now.

“Uh, well I actually just got hired here today,” he rubs the back of his neck, glancing at the bright colourful lights flashing through the glass doors of the club, “And I was told to come by for the show tonight.”

A guy near the front of the line scoffs, “That’s a good story.”

The bouncer ignores him, leaning forward to squint at Koutarou. The heavy, muffled bass coming from the club intensifies his already unnerving gaze, and Koutarou tries not to squirm, smiling in a way that he hopes makes him look honest.

“Big arms, prominent nose, and weird hair,” the bouncer finally says, “You’re Bokuto.”

“That’s – jeez – yeah, that’s me.”

The bouncer nods seriously and relaxes back against the wall. “You can go in.”

“Cool, thanks—“

“Oh sure, let him in,” the same guy from before sneers, “We’ve all just been standing in line for nearly an hour.”

The bouncer whips his head around. “Do I look like I give a shit?”

“You shouldn’t be so rude to customers,” the guy clicks his tongue and puts a hand on his hip, “I could tell your manager about this.”

The bouncer stands to his full height and stares the guy down, mouth stretching into a terrifying smile, “You’ll have to make it into the club first.”

Koutarou glances between them, wondering if he should step in and tell the guy off.

It turns out he doesn’t have to though because the guy in line backs down with an eye-roll and shuts up.

“Tch,” the bouncer relaxes again and opens the door, pouring the full ambience of the club onto the street. He looks at Koutarou and gestures inside, “Go ahead.”

“Oh!” Koutarou startles a little. He actually kinda forgot that that’s what he’d been trying to do in the first place. “Right, thanks!”

He claps the bouncer on the shoulder. The guy looks down at his hand with a perplexed expression that Koutarou can’t help but laugh at loudly as he enters the club.

His laughter dies in his throat as he sees the club in its full glory for the first time. The difference between now and when he was here earlier is, well, night and day.

It’s packed. And so gloriously gay, it makes Koutarou’s young queer heart swell. He feels like he and his prominent nose are gonna fit into this mosaic of people just fine.

On the walls are flashing neon signs of all sorts of colours, shaped like very muscle-y men. He hadn’t noticed them during the day, but now there’s no way to miss them. Some are flashing between poses as if they’re flexing and others are posed _very_ promiscuously. One of them is even wearing high heels. He wonders if they had to order that one custom.

His eyes catch the flags again, but this time they stick out even more, all proudly showcased by their own floodlight.

And then of course there’s the stage.

It’s bathed in bright lights, currently blue and pink, that are glinting off what Koutarou assumes is one of the earlier performer’s glitter. The two guys performing right now aren’t covered in glitter themselves, but they are certainly glistening. He doesn’t know if they’ve oiled up or are just covered in sweat—maybe both. Either way, they look hot as fuck. The taller one isn’t even very built, but there’s something about him, maybe the big eyes and freckles, that makes him look stunning. The other isn’t very tall, but his thighs and broad chest are what dreams are made of.

But the attractive dudes aren’t even the best part. The best part is how fucking fun it looks.

The guys are already stripped down to their skimpy underwear, moving to the music as they swagger around the edges of the stage, shaking their asses, gyrating their hips, and teasing the crowd. Dollar bills are being thrown at their feet or stuffed into their—god, can you even call those underwear? And they’re smiling and laughing, soaking up the attention.

Shit, Koutarou really wants that.

He can’t stop watching them, totally entranced. That is until a hand waving in his face startles his soul back into his body. He looks over to find the owner of the hand, and then has to look down a little bit to actually see the redhead trying to get his attention. He’s wearing atight lime green muscle shirt and black skinny jeans, carrying a tray. A waiter, Koutarou guesses.

“Hey beefcake! You okay?” the waiter asks, raising an eyebrow at him. When Koutarou gives him a weird look in return, shorty continues, waving his hand around some more, “You’ve been standing there with your mouth hanging open for a while now,” Koutarou’s cheeks heat up as he realizes he’s still only a couple steps away from the entrance. The waiter notices his embarrassment and flashes him a knowing smile, “First time here?”

Koutarou crosses his arms with a bit of a pout, “It might be.”

“Aw, don’t be embarrassed, beefy!” the waiter laughs, putting a hand on Koutarou’s arm. He stares up at Koutarou with big brown eyes and says, “Everybody’s gotta have their first time eventually.”

“Are you calling me a strip club virgin?” Koutarou squawks.

“Yes,” the waiter says, taking his hand back to rest on his hip.

“Wah—well, h-how would you know? Maybe I’ve been to other strip clubs and just not this one.”

“Sure, but have you?”

Koutarou chews on an answer as shorty blinks at him expectantly. When it becomes clear that he’s not going to lie, the waiter snickers.

“I knew it! You’ve got newbie written all over you, kid.”

“Kid!?” First he’s a virgin, and now he’s a kid? Who does this guy think he is? And another thing— “There’s no way you’re older than me!”

“You wanna bet?” The waiter puffs out his chest.

“Yeah, I do actually!”

“Alright then, shots are on the loser!”

“Fine!”

“Great! On the count of three we say our ages… one, two, three—”

“Twenty-one,” Koutarou blurts at the same time the waiter says, “Twenty-four!”

“AHA!” The waiter jabs a finger at Koutarou, “I told you so.”

Koutarou deflates a little, but quickly gets over it, a smirk finding its way onto his face, “Well shit, I guess I’m buyin’ you a drink then.”

“Ah, actually,” the waiter scratches the back of his head sheepishly, “I don’t accept drinks from customers anymore,” he pulls the chain that’s around his neck out from under his shirt, showing off the silver band that dangles from it, and winks, “So don’t worry about it. I just really like winning.”

“Well...” It would be easy enough to just keep his mouth shut and get out of paying for a drink, but Koutarou’s mouth has always had a mind of its own, “I actually work here,” damn it, “I was hired this morning.”

“Oh! You’re the new hire? Why didn’t you say so?” Koutarou opens his mouth to say that he never had a chance, but shorty continues talking before he can get the words out, “Well in that case, come on!” The waiter—he really needs to get his name—strides past him towards the bar, “You can buy me a shot and I can get one of the bartenders to grab Ennoshita for you.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Koutarou says, following along.

“I’m Hinata by the way! Feel free to call me Shouyou if you want.”

“Bokuto Koutarou!”

“Awesome! The guy who let you in at the door is Tobio, er, Kageyama.” Hinata turns to smile brightly at him. “He’s my fiancé!”

“That makes sense!” Koutarou says instead of congratulating him like a normal goddamn person.

Luckily, Hinata isn’t a normal person either, because he beams even brighter and thanks him.

As Hinata leads him to the bar, he points out a couple of the other employees.

“The guy with the hair over there is Yahaba,” he says, flapping his hand toward a really pretty guy serving drinks to a table, “He’s also dating one of the bouncers. Or at least we think that’s what they’re doing.”

Next, he points to a guy by the stage who’s so tall it’s almost scary, “That’s Aone. Bouncer and one of my best friends. Don’t ask him why he doesn’t have any eyebrows because he’ll just stare at you until you get really uncomfortable and have to walk away.”

“Do you say that from experience?” Koutarou can’t help but ask.

Hinata has the decency to look embarrassed, “It’s the first thing that came out of my mouth when I met him.”

They dodge around two people making out, blissfully unaware of what’s going on around them.

“So… since you’re friends now,” Koutarou wheedles, “Did you ever get an answer?”

“You’ll have to ask him yourself!” Hinata snickers into his hand just as they reach the bar.

It’s surrounded by people getting drinks, and Koutarou wonders how they’ll even get to the counter. That’s when Hinata suddenly grabs him by the arm and pulls him through the crowd, using his small frame to expertly squeeze between people. Unfortunately, Koutarou is not a small person and bumps into everyone despite Hinata’s finesse. Hinata doesn’t seem to notice, so Koutarou ends up apologizing all the way to the counter.

When they finally make it, Hinata slams down his tray, startling the patron in the stool beside them, and shouts, “Load me up, Issei!”

A sleepy looking guy with caterpillars for eyebrows walks over to them, glowering at Hinata.

“Where have you been?” he asks, putting one hand on his hip. He rests the other on the counter as he leans toward Hinata like it’s an interrogation, “Your orders are backed up.”

“Sorry! I’m sorry!’ Hinata gestures to Koutarou, “But the new guy here was lost, so I had to guide him to safety.”

The bartender, Issei, looks at Koutarou, a thick fuzzy brow raised, “Lost?”

“This is Beefy, the new dancer,” Hinata continues before Koutarou can say that he was NOT lost, just mildlyentranced.

“Nice to meet you, Beefy,” the bartender says, offering his hand over the counter.

Koutarou takes it and returns the firm shake, “Please, call me Bokuto—please.”

Smirking, Issei lets go of Koutarou’s hand then calls over his shoulder to the other bartender, telling them to come over.

The person that walks over can only be described one way; fucking rad.

In their clingy black maxi dress, they’re tall, broad, and beautiful. Their bubblegum pink hair cropped short, ears full of little hoops and studs, jaw covered in stubble.

“Makki, this is Bokuto,” Issei says as he fills up Hinata’s tray with drinks, gesturing between them with his head, “Bokuto this is Makki.”

When they shake hands, Makki gives him a quick once-over and says, “Pleasure to meet you.”

God, their voice is so warm and smokey.

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

Makki laughs and lets go of his hand. “I like this guy,” they say to Issei, who levels Koutarou with a flat look.

“She’s easy to please.”

With her long arm, Makki reaches over to smack Issei in the back of the head. “That’s not saying much about yourself.”

“Oof, self-burn,” Hinata chimes in.

“Get back to work,” the bartenders say together.

“He owes me a shot first!” Hinata waggles his finger at Koutarou.

“Later, your orders are backed up enough.”

Hinata blows a raspberry at them, but picks up the tray and hefts it high over his head, balancing it on one hand, and proceeds to wade back into the sea of people, “Make way people—oh!” He cranes his head to shout back, “One of you grab Ennoshita for him—‘scuse me, thank you~”

When he’s gone the attention turns back to Koutarou.

“Don’t worry about the shot,” Issei says, “He’ll forget about it by the time he gets back.”

“He tries to weasel shots out of everyone, all the time,” Makki adds.

Koutarou shrugs. “I wouldn’t’ve minded.”

“Aw, he’s sweet _and_ built.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Issei turns Makki by the shoulders and shoos her away with a smack to the ass, “Go grab Chikara.”

Makki leers over her shoulder, “That’s sexual harassment in the workplace.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna snitch to Tooru?”

“I might if he’d ever come back from his leave.”

Issei snorts and rolls his eyes. “Don’t you mean his vacation?”

“Right, right. His I’m-incapable-of-coping-with-my-problems vacation.”

Before Koutarou can ask what they’re talking about, a handsome voice rolls out of the speakers, spreading over the club like butter.

“How’s everyone doing so far? Feeling good, feeling right?” The crowd erupts into howls and cheers. Koutarou turns to see Suga on stage with a mic in hand. He’s dressed in a gorgeous slim light grey plaid suit, salmon tie, a lighter salmon button-up. The way he smiles and laughs at the crowd as they clap and cat-call him makes Koutarou’s skin tingle.

“Good, that’s good. Let’s keep up that energy for our next performer then, shall we? Although,” his voice pitches lower, smile turning salacious as he eye-fucks the crowd, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, is it?”

The crowd shouts and cheers their agreement. Koutarou leans on the bar, ready to watch.

“With arms to die for and a six-pack beyond compare, he works the pole like he was born for it,” Suga announces, “Please welcome to the stage, Gemini!”

At that, everyone in the room goes crazy. This guy must be good.

Somehow, over the sounds of their cries, Koutarou just manages to hear Issei say, “Ah, speaking of Tooru’s problems.”

The [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5tDjYuqJRJQ) Gemini’s performing to begins with a lone accordion riff, which is really weird because an accordion is definitely not a sexy instrument, but then the drums and bass come in and oohhhhh okay, he knows what song this is.

The dancer saunters out onto the stage, dressed in baggy track pants and a zip-up hoodie with the sleeves cut off. His hood his up, head tilted down. He stops in the centre of the stage.

The music drops and then swells, drops and then swells, accompanied by a low _come with me now, come with me now,_ asGemini brandishes his arms out to the audience.

Then suddenly the beat drops and explodes.

_Wooaah, come with me now_

Gemini drops into a low, wide stance and swings his head around like he’s at a metal concert. His hood flies off to reveal his short spiky hair.

_I’m gonna take you down_

Smoothly, Gemini rolls into some sick footwork, hitting every hard drum beat with a different part of his body, and shit, this guy is definitely a legit dancer.

_I’m gonna show you how_

Yeah he is, Koutarou thinks.

Then he’s jolted by a tap on his arm. He looks over to see Issei leaning over the bar.

“Want a drink?” he half yells over the music.

“Sure, a beer would be great!”

“Kind?”

“The cheapest you’ve got!”

Issei snorts and leaves to get it.

Koutarou turns his attention back to the show. The music has mellowed a bit into the first verse, but still remains upbeat. Gemini’s flouncing around the stage, teasing the crowd with the zipper of his hoodie. They’re all dying for him to take it off. Finally, he slides the zipper all the way down to reveal his abs. The way the bright stage lights hit them defines every curve of muscle.

A pause and then a crash of symbols takes them back into the chorus.

_Wooaah come with me now_

Gemini throws off the hoodie. He bobs and grinds to the music, grabbing at himself suggestively.

Suddenly a bottle of beer is all he can see.

He takes it, laughing, “Thanks, man!”

But then he looks at the label. He may never drink expensive beer, but he can recognise a fancy brand when he sees one. He goes to protest, but Issei just waves a hand.

“It’s on the house,” he smirks, “Welcome to the club.”

Koutarou grins and raises the bottle in thanks.

Taking a swig—holy shit, that’s smooth—he goes back to watching.

Then he nearly spits it everywhere because he really wasn’t expecting to see Gemini on one of the two poles that are upstage, holding himself horizontal to the floor with only his arms. That’s some insane core strength.

As the chorus sings _I’m gonna take you down,_ Gemini drops his legs with an awesome swing around the pole. He’s not on his feet for long, using the pole to leverage himself into some b-boy moves that take him around it and into another verse.

He pushes himself off the pole, tumbling into a backwards somersault before using his arms and shoulder to spring back to this feet. Suga did not embellish with his introduction.

The verse continues as Gemini struts downstage, chest puffed out, heading toward the catwalk. People throw bills at his feet, but he doesn’t seem to be paying them much mind at the moment. When he reaches the end of the runway, he stops and starts running his hands over his chest.

_Confuse what I thought for something a felt_

A hand trails down his stomach while the other moves up his neck.

_Confuse what I feel for something that’s real_

He drops his hands to grab at the front of his pants.

_I tried to sell my soul last night_

He looks all through the crowd, almost like a question.

_Funny, he wouldn’t even take a bite_

And then he rips the pants off with a flourish.

People whoop and holler, throwing more money. Gemini lets the pants drop to the stage, along with the tempo of the music. The vocals smooth out into something dreamy.

_F_ _ar away, I heard_ _him_ _say_

Gemini’s interacting with the crowd more, getting up close and personal, giving them a real good view.

_Come with me now_

He continues to do that as he makes his way back to the main stage. The music is building, the lyrics repeating, and Gemini faces the entire crowd once again. He’s started palming his junk with a smug look on his face, driving the crowd whild.

_I heard him say_

He slowly sneaks a hand into his briefs and really starts rolling his hips, the other running over his chest. Koutarou can feel the whole room on edge, waiting. For what, he’s not sure.

_Come with me now_

Gemini continues to grab and flaunt himself, the music swells, and swells until it just hits its peak and—

Suddenly Gemini rips his hand out of his briefs, holding onto something. The audience screams and cheers, and Koutarou realizes that what he’s holding is a _packer._

_WOOAAH, COME WITH ME NOW_

Gemini tosses the packer into the audience, and they absolutely lose their fucking minds for him.

“Holy shit,” Koutarou breathes, “Holy fucking shit, this place is amazing.”

Gemini has since dropped to his knees, leaning back and thrusting his hips in the air. He’s smirking and flipping off the crowd, but they love it. He falls forward onto his stomach, fist pounding the ground as he rolls his body with the guitar solo, sliding himself down the stage.

The energy of the room is so high, Koutarou can feel himself buzzing with it. He doesn’t think the performance can get any better, until Gemini heads to the pole again.

The speakers spill out the slowly building rhythm of the accordion solo, and Gemini’s movements build with it as he coaxes his body up the pole. As the guitar and kick drum joins in again, he starts to spin, slowly at first, holding his legs in complicated positions. The music picks up faster, and so does his spinning, his thighs forming a firm grip on the pole. And then the snare drum flies in and he drops his torso backwards, spine curving, arms out, holding on with only the power of his legs.

It’s incredible.

_Afraid to lose control  
And caught up in this world_

The spinning continues, Gemini changing positions with every roll of the snare drum.

_I've wasted time, I've wasted breath  
I think I've thought myself to death_

He starts to pull himself up to the top of the pole.

_I was born without this fear  
Now only this seems clear_

He braces the balls of his feet against the pole, hanging on to it with his hands, knees bent almost like he’s in a crouch

_I need to move, I need to fight  
I need to lose myself tonight_

_WOOAAH, COME WITH ME NOW_

The down beat hits and Gemini flips backward, pushing off the pole with his feet, and lands gracefully on the stage.

The audience explodes.

Gemini looks out onto the crowd. Bringing a hand to his mouth, he spreads two fingers into a ‘v’ and sticks his tongue through.

And then he struts off the stage as the song comes to an end.

After watching that, Koutarou wants to run up on stage and start performing right now. But he’d probably get in shit for that, so he turns back to the bar again, taking a few big swallows of his beer just to do something with his energy. Makki sees him do it and laughs.

“Slow down big guy.”

“I can’t! That was just so crazy, I’m all _waaaaahhhh_ , y’know?”

“You sound like Hinata,” she grabs a beer from one of the fridges and cracks it open, “The boss said he’d be out here soon.”

“Thanks!” Koutarou rests both elbows on the counter, leaning in so he can yap at Makki easier, “Man, I can’t believe he threw the packer into the crowd like that! That shit’s expensive.”

Makki snorts, “When he came up with the idea, the bosses loved it so much that they ordered him a bunch on the company’s dime,” Koutarou’s eyebrows rise up on his face and Makki waves her hand, “He’s only allowed to do it once and a while though.”

“That’s so awesome.”

Makki hands the beer to a customer and takes their money with a smile. Then she regards Koutarou again, leaning on the counter casually, “Soooo, if you know they’re crazy expensive, are you...?” She raises an eyebrow to complete the question.

“Hm? Oh!” Koutarou laughs, “Nah, not me. I had a non-binary partner my first year of college who packed sometimes.”

“Ohhh,” Makki nods and stands up straight again, “That’s cool,” she smiles self-consciously, scratching at the stubble on her face, “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I only asked because of like, solidarity and shit, you know?”

“Don’t worry about it! I don’t mind. This place feels very...” he tries to think of the best word to describe it, and finally decides on, “Safe.”

She relaxes, smile filling out, “It is,” she puts the money in the nearby til, “Ennoshita has made sure of that since he opened this place five years ago, especially for trans folk,” she goes to say something else, but is interrupted—

“Makki!”

Koutarou looks past her shoulder and sees Ennoshita approaching them.

“Ahh, speak of the devil,” Makki lilts.

“What was that?” Ennoshita asks.

“Oh nothing, we were just talking about you.”

“Badmouthing me to the new guy, eh?” he teases, crossing his arms and winking at Koutarou.

Makki gasps, placing a hand on her chest, “Why sir! I would never.”

“Mhhm,” he tips his head toward the rest of the bar, “Go on, quit harassing the new guy and get back to work.”

“Yes boss,” she says, giving a salute. She moseys past Ennoshita and waves to Koutarou over her shoulder. “Later, Beefy!”

A blush warms over his face.

Ennoshita smirks at him, “Got a stage name already, huh?”

Koutarou blanches, “Please, no. That’s not cool at all!”

Chuckling, Ennoshita starts to turn away, “Come on, meet me at the other end of the bar. I’m gonna show you the offices and then we can discuss your training.”

Koutarou downs the last of his beer then starts making his way through the crowd. He hears Suga on the mic again, rolling through another introduction. The audience sounds even more excited than when Gemini was brought on, but before he can turn to see who they are, Ennoshita’s ushering him through the door behind the bar.

 

In Ennoshita’s cramped office, they sit and chat about typical new employment stuff. It’s all really boring and Koutarou struggles to follow along, but he’s pretty sure he’s not getting fucked over. When Ennoshita finally gets through it all, he moves on to the stripper stuff.

“All the tips you make are yours. For group performances anything that’s not directly given to a dancer is pooled together and split between all the performers who were on stage. No one in the audience is allowed to touch you unless you explicitly invite them to. If anyone gives you a hard time or makes you uncomfortable, let myself or Suga know,

“We won’t have you on stage for the first few shifts until Suga feels like you’re ready to make your debut. He’ll let you know about rehearsing and all that before you leave tonight. So until that happens, we’ll have you on the floor ushering or outside drawing people to the club.”

“So mostly, I’ll just be walking around lookin’ hot.”

Ennoshita snorts and says, “Basically yes,” then he folds his arms on the table and leans forward, giving off an intense sort of energy, “So, you’re absolutely sure you’re down for this?”

Is he down to make money just for being hot and shakin’ it in front of strangers who want to throw cash at him? “Hell yeah I am.”

“Nothing you’ve seen so far has scared you off?”

“No way! This place is great!”

Pride flickers across Ennoshita’s face when he smiles, “I’m glad you think so.”

“So, can I get back out there now?” he asks, jerking a thumb behind him, “I kinda feel like I’m missin’ out.”

Ennoshita nods, “Yep, I’m done with you for now. If you want to just head out the way we came and then go have a seat in the lounge area, I’ll send one of the other performers to take it from here.”

“There’s a lounge area?”

“Yes, it’s just down a bit and to the left from where you entered the club.”

“How did I not notice that?”

“We keep it,“ his boss clears his throat, “Mildly inconspicuous.”

“What for—ohhhh,” he can’t help but snicker, waggling his eyebrows, “I get what you’re saying.”

Ennoshita tries to look unimpressed, but he’s fighting a smile, “Get out of my office and get back to observing.”

“Oh, I’ll observe alright,” Koutarou says, standing from his chair.

Ennoshita points to the door, “Out!”

 

Back on the floor, Koutarou squeezes and shuffles past people, trying to get to this mysterious lounge area. He gets a bit closer to the stage and sees some scantily clad people wandering around the tables, talking up customers, flexing for them, showing off their assets.

When he reaches the lounge area, his stomach fills with nervous butterflies. It’s definitely darker than the rest of the club, shrouded in only dim purple and red light. There are plush couches and chairs, and fancy looking coffee tables. It’s all very sexy. There are some men there already, sipping at their drinks. One of them is getting a lap dance, but Koutarou can’t quite make out what the dancer looks like.

He finds himself questioning, for the first time, if he’ll really be able to do this. But then he sees a bouncer in the corner and relaxes a bit. Knowing someone’s there looking out for them takes some of the creepiness away. Like, it’s really dark and sexy, but _supervised_ sexiness—in a not kinky way.

One of the armchairs is open, surprisingly. Then again, he figures most people don’t come here for semi-private lap dances and are more interested in getting drunk and watching the show.

He sits down and is glad to find he can see the stage a bit better than when he was at the bar. The song that’s been playing comes to an end and Koutarou sees Suga walking up the steps of the stage, mic in hand. He takes his place in the spotlight and raises the mic to his mouth.

“Hello again,” he pauses for the shouted replies and wolf whistles, “Intermission has come to an end and we’re ready to get right back into it. Are you ready?” The crowd cheers. Suga smiles teasingly, “Are you sure?” They cheer harder. “Because the man about to take the stage is so gorgeous it’s almost out of this world.”

Someone in the audience yells something that Koutarou can’t hear, making Suga laugh warmly, “Yes, he may even be prettier than me.”

The crowd protests, but Suga waves them off. “Please, you’re making me blush,” he saunters across the stage, the spotlight following him, “Tell me, do you all like men with a bit of height?” The crowd answers in a chorus of _yeahs._

“How about sharp, defined cheekbones?” Suga purses his lips thoughtfully as people whistle and clap, “Freckles?”

He points to someone who must have said something, “They’re cute?” Then he looks to someone else, “Sexy? Yeah?”

The crowd seems to all agree. Suga takes his place back on the other side of the stage.

“Well you’re all in luck then!” he takes a pause before starting the introduction, “He may be skinny, but he’s packin’ it where it counts. Please welcome to the stage: Dash “The Big Dipper” Star!”

[The music starts](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gl9AwPrw9zA), a punk-rock guitar rhythm that Koutarou recognises as _Sabotage_ by the Beastie Boys. The freckled guy that was performing when Koutarou first entered the club struts out on stage, dressed in black jeans that are ripped to hell, combat boots, and a biker tank.

Koutarou’s super ready to see what this guy can do, but a hand caressing his neck and shoulder makes him jump.

“Hey handsome,” comes a low voice, “Want a dance?”

Slowly, Koutarou tips his head back. In the dim light he can just make out the shape of the person, most notably a crest of messy hair on the top of their head.

The person comes around the chair, hand still hot and heavy on the back of Koutarou’s neck. They sit on the arm of the chair and Koutarou gets an eyefull of a muscular fishnet stocking-covered leg. His eyes wander down to find a disturbingly high heeled shoe on their foot. The foot wiggles prettily when his eyes linger a little too long.

He drags his gaze back up to the person’s face. He can see it a little more clearly now.

“So, how about it?”

“I-I-I—”

They raise a nicely sculpted brow, “You?”

God, this person has the kind of features that, mixed together, shouldn’t be attractive, yet somehow are.

He should tell them that he works here, that would be the logical thing to do, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “Uh—hi.”

“Hey there,” they say, crooked smile settling under what looks like a previously broken nose that didn’t heal properly, “My names Rooster, but I’ll tell you what,” they place a hand on Koutarou’s chest, trailing it down slowly, and bring their face close, “I’ll let you call me Tetsurou.”

The way they drag out their name makes Koutarou shiver. He swallows and opens his mouth to reply—

All of a sudden the person’s pulling back and smacking Koutarou’s chest, “Because we’re coworkers!”

They stand, leaving Koutarou to sit alone, slack-jawed and slightly turned on.

The person, Tetsurou, cackles—like a for real, witchy cackle—oh so proud of their prank.

Embarrassment hits Koutarou hard, and he drops his red face into his hands.

“That was so meeeeaaaaan,” he whines, “Why would you do that to me?”

“Eh, I gotta get my kicks somehow.”

Now that they’re not pitching their voice low to pretend-seduce Koutarou, their voice is much more grating.

“Being a stripper isn’t enough of a kick for you?” he asks, raising his head to pout at them.

“I’m sorry, big guy,” Tetsurou laughs, not quite as obnoxiously this time, and sticks their hand out, “It’s nice to meet you, Koutarou.”

The question must show on Koutarou’s face when he takes his hand because Tetsurou goes on to explain, “All the strippers are pretty informal with one another. It’d be weird if we weren’t since we spend so much time practically naked together.”

“That makes sense,” Koutarou says, standing to properly shake Tetsurou’s hand. And holy fuck do they dwarf Koutarou in their obscenely high pumps, “Can I uh, ask what your pronouns are then?”

“You absolutely can,” Tetsurou grins, dropping his hand, “He/him, she/her, they/them – what the fuck ever rolls off your tongue at any given moment. I don’t really care.”

Koutarou can’t help but return Tetsurou’s contagious smile, “Right on.”

“And I really am sorry about messing with you,” he says, even as he cocks a sassy hip, resting his hand the swell of it, “Its’s just that you’re such nice beefy fresh meat.”

“Why does everyone keep calling me beefy?!?”

Tetsurou snickers, “It’s because you’re jacked, dude.”

“I know that! But it makes me feel like a cow.”

“If cows were as hot as you, we’d have a serious problem with dairy farmers.”

A laugh bursts from Koutarou’s chest, “Gross!”

Tetsurou just grins and pats Koutarou on the arm, “Come on, I’ve been told to show you the ropes.”

“Show away my dude.”

He starts by pointing to the bouncer at the edge of the lounge, “First off, that guy over there is Tendou. Great dude. Weird as fuck, but we still love him – most of the time. He’s the lead singer of a local band.”

Koutarou cranes his neck around to look, but can’t really see what the guy looks like. He figures he’ll find out at some point.

“And the guy on stage right now is Tadashi.”

They both look over to the stage to see an audience member laying on their back on the runway while Tadashi, shirtless, hovers just above him, rolling his hips to the music.

“Nice,” they say at the same time. They look at each other and grin.

Then Tetsurou brandishes an arm toward the rest of the club, “Shall we?”

“We shall!”

 

They wander through the club, Tetsurou pointing out some of the ushers, explaining what they do. Which is mostly just standing there looking hot and helping customers on and off the stage when necessary.

A couple of the other dancers are hanging out around the tables again, but they’re all busy with customers, so Tetsurou says he’ll introduce them after the show.

At one point he points to the DJ booth where a tall, lanky blonde guy with glasses and a cute chubby girl in a beanie are sitting.

“That tall fucker there is Tsukki, our DJ, but don’t call him that to his face.”

“What, a DJ?”

“No, Tsukki.”

“What should I call him then? Tall fucker?”

“You can try that, but I’d go with Tsukishima instead.”

Just as he says that, Tsukki rotates his head in their direction, as if he somehow sensed them talking about him. When he sees Tetsurou, who’s still pointing, he flips him off with a dead look on his face.

“Always so charming,” Tetsurou sighs, dropping his arm, “The chick beside him is Yukie. She’s in charge of lights and stage effects. You’ll like her, but don’t let her near any of your food, she’s a beast.”

“She single?”

“Wrong tree, my friend.”

“Agh, damn.”

“Come on,” Tetsurou turns him by the shoulders, “We’ll bother Tsukki next time.”

They continue to round the club. Customers call to Tetsurou from their seats once and a while, but he charms they away with his smile and tells them he’s training the new guy, which earns Koutarou a few low whistles and wandering eyes.

They go back to hangout at the bar while Tetsurou explains some of the specifics about how their job works. He throws in some pointers that Koutarou’s sure to forget. More than a few people offer to buy Tetsurou a drink, but he kindly declines.

The night goes on pretty quickly, until Tetsurou’s leaving him at the bar to join the others for the finale.

It turns out to be a giant sexy dance party. They’re performing to an ABBA song that Koutarou’s pretty sure is called [Gimme, Gimme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZL93BV9uTAM)or something like that. Everyone starts out on the stage, clad in very tight short shorts and nothing else, but eventually they end up scattered among the audience, giving short lap dances to those tipping the most, and sometimes dancing with each other. One of the guys looks far too old to still be a stripper, but really, who’s Koutarou to judge?

To his dismay, he recognises one of the guys as Mr. Bored Face from his audition. Under the hot stage lights, the guy looks unfairly gorgeous. All lean muscle and sweaty tan skin, his messy curls looking like he just had really good sex backstage. He’s also very touchy with the audience members, obviously in his element. Everyone he gets close to absolutely swoons over him. It’s disgusting.

He also seems really into this song. Like, _really_ into it.

God, he’s irritating.

Even though Koutarou’s never even spoken to him.

Ugh.

UGH.

But when it’s all said and done, and Suga’s wrapping up the show, the dancers head backstage and Koutarou doesn’t have to look at his stupidly beautiful face and edible thighs anymore.

The only person who didn’t exit the floor is Tetsurou. Koutarou can see him lingering close to the stage, chatting with patrons as he waits for him. He heads over there, and when Tetsurou sees him he excuses himself and meets him partway. He’s got a stupid grin on his face.

“You ready to meet the family?”

“You bet, dude!”

He’s led through the door by the stage and down a set of stairs. Even though it’s a basement, it’s not gross or musty smelling, which says something about how the place is kept up. As they walk down the hallway he can hear voices echoing from the dressing room:

“ _That old fucker with the crazy eyebrows was here again.”_

“ _You shouldn’t call Issei that.”_

“ _Fuck off, Tadashi.”_

“ _I’m tired of having to look at him,”_ a third voice joins, _“I hope he dies soon.”_

“ _Who,_ _Issei_ _?”_ the second voice asks.

“ _No, the old fucker.”_

“ _Fuck man, you can’t just say shit like that—and for fuck’s sake would you put your dick away? I’ve seen enough of it tonight!”_

“ _I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”_

“ _So am I!”_

“Ohoho? What’s going on in here?” Tetsurou sings as they round the corner.

When the dressing area comes into view, the very first thing Koutarou sees—is bored guy’s fucking dick. Just all out there. Like it was waiting explicitly to embarrass him.

He immediately averts his eyes, face heating up, which is stupid because it’s not like it’s that big of a deal, but he just wasn’t, like, prepared. Instead his eyes fall on the guy who was pole dancing earlier. He’s got his arms crossed and is glowering at bored guy.

“Way to make an impression,” Tetsurou says dryly.

“I do what I can,” says bored guy.

Koutarou chances a glance at him and is thankful to that he’s putting on sweatpants.

“Okay everyone,” Tetsurou claps his hands to get their attention, “This is the new guy, Koutarou. Everyone say _Hi Koutarou._ ”

“Hi Koutarou, _”_ they chorus.

“Uh, hey,” he waves.

“Alright, I’m gonna go around the room and introduce everyone, so pay attention.”

First he points to himself, “You already know me. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou, stage name: Rooster, drag name: Chickie, and I’m an actor.”

“Trying to be,” someone says.

Tetsurou pointedly ignores them and moves on to the first guy on the left, who happens to be the freckled guy, Tadashi. He smiles kindly at Koutarou before Tetsurou even starts the introduction.

“This is Yamaguchi Tadashi, stage name: a fucking mouthful,” he pauses like he just thought of something, “Actually, Tadashi, I was thinking that you need a new intro. It doesn’t really fit you anymore.”

Tadashi raises an eyebrow. “What? You think my dick’s gotten smaller?”

“No, no,” Tetsurou waves his hand, “I know you still have a huge dick. We are all very aware. I mean that you’re not all that skinny anymore. You’re too muscular for the bit to work.”

The room murmurs in agreement.

“You’re no longer our resident twink!” he continues dramatically, clutching his chest, “You’ve grown into a twunk right before our very eyes.”

Tadashi laughs, a light blush gracing his face. Up close, he really is striking, high high _high_ cheekbones that showcase the dark smattering of freckles across them, brown beautiful doe-eyes.

Everyone in the room grins at Tadashi.

“We need a new twink!”

“Somebody tell Suga!”

“Guys, oh my god, stop!” Tadashi says, covering his face.

“Anyway,” Tetsurou says, smiling affectionately at Tadashi, “this guy’s also a model. That’s not at all surprising, but what is surprising is he’s dating surly ol’—”

“What kind of modelling do you do?” Koutarou asks him.

“Um, well I used to do high fashion,” Tadashi drops his eyes, “But I quit that a year ago and have been doing pretty normal stuff since.”

“That’s so cool!”

“Yes, he’s fabulous. Let’s move on, shall we,” Tetsurou gestures to the guy beside Tadashi, the one with the best thighs of the group, “This is Sawamura Daichi, stage name: Coach. He’s the only straight one here, and is currently having a not-even-middle-aged crisis.”

“That’s rude,” Daichi tells Tetsurou, but when he looks at Koutarou he smiles, “Nice to meet you. Please disregard half of what this jackass says.”

“Now _that’s_ rude,” Tetsurou says, clicking his tongue. Koutarou worries that maybe these guys don’t really like each other, but then Tetsurou makes a kissy face at Daichi, “Love you, Dai.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Daichi responds, fighting a smile.

Tetsurou winks at Koutarou and moves on to the guy Tetsurou only knows as Gemini, “Iwaizumi Hajime, stage name: Gemini. Outside of the club he’s a professional dancer. He’s been in music videos and stuff.”

“That’s awesome, dude!” Koutarou exclaims, “I used to dance when I was a kid, but gave it up for gymnastics.”

Hajime raises his eyebrows, “Hey, you might want to try getting on the pole then.”

“You’d teach me!?!”

He smiles, “Of course,” then his eyebrows furrow, “But I’ll tell you right now, it’s not easy.”

“I’ll work hard, I promise”

“—speaking of working hard,” Tetsurou cuts in, tipping his head toward the oldish looking guy in the corner, “Only ten years away from retirement, that guy there is Ushijima Wakatoshi, stage name: Papa. He’s our dad and every customer’s daddy. He’s also been stripping since the dawn of time.”

“I started in1986, Tetsurou,” comes the deepest, sexiest voice known to mankind.

“He talks all monotonous like that because of all the drugs he did in the sixties,” Tetsurou stage whispers to Koutarou.

Wakatoshi pulls his shirt over his head, all kinds of bulky muscle rolling as he does, “You’re being particularly difficult tonight, Tetsurou.”

“Will you spank me for it?”

“No.”

Tetsurou pouts exaggeratedly at him, but moves on.

The last person left to introduce is bored guy. He’s fully clothed now and just packing up his bag. Koutarou finds himself very curious about what this guy’s deal is. And then he feels annoyed that he’s so curious.

“Last we have Akaashi Keiji, stage name: K.J.—“

“Like, Kill Joy?” Koutarou asks honestly.

Everyone in the room laughs, save Keiji, like he’s not the first one to say that. Tetsurou in particular cackles like a banshee.

“Yes, exactly like that,” he says through his laughter.

“I don’t appreciate that, Tetsurou.”

“You picked the name!”

“When I was seventeen.”

“Seventeen?” Koutarou nearly screeches.

“Yeah,” Tetsurou says, “Keiji here has been in the biz for twelve long years.”

_Holy shit_ , Koutarou manages to not say that part out loud, “And they let you strip at seventeen years old?”

“They thought I was nineteen,” Keiji says with a self-satisfied smile.

“Chikara’s still mad at you about that.”

“Who, you mean Ennoshita?” Koutarou asks, looking between Tetsurou and Keiji.

Laughing like it brings him great joy, Keiji explains, “I was his very first hire.”

“Poor guy was almost fired over that when they found out.”

Keiji shrugs, “He should have asked for my ID.”

“Anyway,” Tetsurou says, “Keiji can be a dick, but he does knows the business better than any of us. So if you have questions, he’s the one to go to.”

Koutarou nods, about to say that he will, but then someone brushes past him. He turns and sees Keiji’s back, hand raised in a lazy goodbye as he saunters down the hallway.

Seriously, what a dick.

 

As everyone finishes getting changed, Koutarou hangs out and chats with them. He finds out that Daichi is good friends with Suga, and that he has a girlfriend named Yui who doesn’t mind at all that he works at a gay strip club; that Tetsurou has a boyfriend and has been a Drag Queen longer than he’s been a stripper; that Hajime taught himself to dance.

He also learns that he’s the youngest person working at the club.

Embarrassing.

At one point Suga stops in to congratulate everyone on a good show. He also tells Koutarou when to come in to start training and rehearsing.

Soon everybody’s heading back upstairs. The club has emptied out save for the employees who are working on closing up, and one other guy with half-bleached hair that Koutarou doesn’t remember seeing.

Tetsurou knows him though, his face lighting up as he calls to him, “Kenma! You came to pick me up!”

They draw closer to the guy as he mumbles, “I always pick you up.”

“Yeah, but it makes me happy every time.”

Tetsurou leans down and steals a kiss from the guy.

“This is my boyfriend Kenma,” he explains, gesturing between him and Koutarou, “Kenma this is the new guy, Koutarou.”

“Hi,” Kenma nods.

“Hey!”

Kenma brushes a hand down Tetsurou’s side, “Let’s go, I’m tired.”

“Sure thing, just gimme a sec. I’ll meet you outside.”

“Kay,” is all Kenma says before shuffling away.

Tetsurou smiles after him. When he turns his attention back to Koutarou though, his expression gets more serious.

“Hey, listen,” he says in a low voice, “Can I give you a little warning? Bestow some wisdom upon you, if you will?”

“Sure, go for it.”

“ _W_ _atch out for Keiji,”_ he says, “He’s a bit of a – shark,” he purses his lips, eyes squinting, “Kinda has a _thing_ for fucking the fresh meat.”

Koutarou winces at the phrasing, but Tetsurou doesn’t seem to notice and just continues;

“He’s not a creep or anything, I don’t mean that. He just...” he looks up like he’s trying to find words, “He basically grew up in this environment, and you can tell. Not that it’s a bad thing! I just wanted to warn you so that if you do sleep with him, you won’t have any kind of expectations for more. Because he won’t give it to you.”

“I don’t really think that’s gonna be a problem, but thanks man.”

“Hey! I won’t judge you if you do fuck him,” Tetsurou says, shrugging and laughing a little, “I did.”

“That’s not it.” Koutarou laughs, “I just don’t think he likes me very much. Not even enough to fuck me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know,” Koutarou scratches his chest self-consciously, “Just the feeling I got. And how he acted when he saw my audition.”

“Hmm, well I wouldn’t read too much into any of those things,” Tetsurou says, head tilted thoughtfully, “Keiji’s got a bad case of resting bitch face, and on top of that, isn’t always fully aware of how he treats people. He’s just kinda the same with everyone.”

Tetsurou smirks suddenly, “And anyway, if what Suga told me is true,” he looks sidelong at Koutarou, “He’s the one who told Ennoshita to hire you on the spot.”

“What?!?”

Tetsurou shrugs exaggeratedly, starting to walk away, “That’s just what I heard. Don’t let it go to your head, or you will definitely end up fucking him,” he smiles kindly, “And you seem a little too soft to be able to handle what will come after that.”

He turns away completely, waving behind him, “Later man!”

Koutarou just waves weakly, still a little dumbfounded.

Bored guy actually liked his performance.

A person who has been a stripper for twelve years wanted him hired.

Well, shit.

That changes things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we finally get to see Akaashi dance. 
> 
> You can find me as livecement on tumblr and twitter.

**Author's Note:**

> hi! hope you enjoyed the introduction to this story. i'll warn that this thing is going to be full of embellishments and ridiculousness because i just want it to be fun, so just like. be chill. i wanted to write about a strip club that includes people from every corner of the queer community. a place that people are just accepted, no matter what. and i'm also DESPERATE for some stripper!bokuto content. like, fuck.
> 
> so here we are.
> 
> if you have questions about this fic, i am livecement on tumblr as well.
> 
> also, i will be linking the songs that characters are dancing to, but don't feel like you need to listen to them.


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